


Unity

by grey_sw (grey)



Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey/pseuds/grey_sw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rinzler breaches, confused, his helmet breaking the surface of the water. The part of him that is Tron thinks <i>energy spring</i>, but the rest is not so sure; that part remembers the virus, and rolls onto his back to let the poison flow out of his code.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostsoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsoldier/gifts).



Rinzler breaches, confused, his helmet breaking the surface of the water. The part of him that is Tron thinks _energy spring_ , but the rest is not so sure; that part remembers the virus, and rolls onto his back to let the poison flow out of his code. A long, swimming struggle-time has taught each the measure of the other, differences worn away by the stinging salt of the Sea. Now it's over at last, land and life at the end of the tunnel. Now they are one, and the one they are stumbles and slides over the rocks on the shore, still a clumsy creature of water and new birth.

No matter. He gets better as he goes, rising from belly to hands and knees, and from hands and knees to an eager, seeking lope. He has no directive, now, not really, but still it drives him; memory sparks in his core, a burning circle against his back. There's someone he has to find, someone who matters, and the fact that he has two names bothers Rinzler -- Tron -- not at all. 

For obvious reasons.

He finds him on the shore, at war with himself. The sky above is cracked like a mirror, broken by lightning and great, jagged render-errors. The ground below heaves like a bellows, tossing Rinzler to and fro until Tron has to catch his footing. Chasms open and close, shifting like glitching habitation-blocks, and as he approaches the epicenter the Sea itself begins to blink in and out in a binary tide, washing over two pairs of boots. The orb up above in the sky -- cold, blue, still twisting with the chaos of rebirth -- lights Flynn and Clu's faces like a flashbulb. Then they twist, bending low to gather power between their gloves, arching high with words of unmaking upon their lips.

They're destroying the Grid, destroying each other, and nothing could be more familiar to Rinzler... or to Tron. He remembers his first rebirth, dropped naked and gasping into a blank, black world, horrified to find that his own structure-members all had _too many bits_ ; he remembers the second time, too, code that burned and twisted inside him, twisted _him_. Purifying fire. He'd cried for Alan-One, then -- or was it Flynn? Or Clu, his Leader? -- and no one had answered.

No one will answer now. Kevin Flynn will kill himself. Clu will kill himself. And there will be nothing left in their wake, nothing but that blank, smooth-walled world... and a Tron left to live again, alone.

He shakes his head, growls low through his helmet, lets his lips form the words of his old mantra even though they strike more than half of him as meaningless. He fights-- he fights for--

Frag it. 

He has two Discs, one for each of them, and _that_ will do nicely. 

In through the maelstrom. It's both the hardest thing he's ever done, and the easiest: dodge and slide, leap and dive, slicing through the unnatural geometry of a world that's starting to come apart at the edges. Some of the pixels that clatter away are even _round_ , the way the ISO towers had been -- he suspects that Flynn is doing that just to piss Clu off. Then he recognizes the same intent in reverse, as the numbers beneath the substance start trending back toward orderly, predictable patterns. It's a tug-of-war Game with the Grid as the light-rope, and no one the winner. 

Rinzler looks into the center and sees his old master there, and his _old_ master. He remembers birth and rebirth, being made and unmade. Then his Discs are drawn, and he's striking for vengeance: he and Tron together, one Disc for each, at so precisely the same instant that neither he nor Tron can be sure which is which. All that matters is whirling fire, blue and red, spinning mere nanometers from a pair of identically divine throats. 

Clu and Flynn stop. They stop and they look at him, furrowed brows above shocked blue eyes. He tries to speak but only sound comes out, the rumble he always makes. It's enough -- enough of a threat, at least -- because they look at him and then at each other, and then the roar of their Ragnarok dies down all around them. 

\---

They've gone to Flynn's safehouse. The city is a mess, all anarchy and pixels in the streets, but it doesn't matter much. They can remake it, the two of them, Flynn and Clu together. Tron will show them how, and Rinzler will see that they do it properly... or else.

For now, they're sitting on the balcony, watching as Admin Tower begins to crumble and fall. What's left of the End of Line Club hits the ground first, shattering the street below. Great cracks begin to spread and craze, yawning wide to pull the rest of the Tower down. It goes slowly, bit by bit, folding into itself amidst a cloud of digital dust. Clu growls at Rinzler's right, and Flynn snarls at Tron's left, but he is unmoved by their pain and anger; there's no place for it here, not now.

They're supposed to be meditating.

After a while both Creators subside, muttering under their breath, shuffling back and forth over their _zafu_. Flynn shuts his eyes, and his breath begins to slow, in and out in a smooth, unhurried fashion. Clu leaves his eyes open, staring at the wreckage of his perfect world. His breath comes in short, uneven bursts. He's still angry, and perhaps he'll be angry forever... but Rinzler times his own breath to match, meeting his Leader halfway, and after forever they both begin to run out of rage.

_All that is visible must grow beyond itself, and extend into the realm of the invisible_ , Tron thinks, each word falling on the even cadence of the User's breathing. He's had enough of all of it, visible and invisible both, but he's still fighting... 

...and in the darkness of the safehouse there is just one sound.


End file.
